The Base Line
by Little-Arlis
Summary: Soon after the XMen begin their training, the Professor recruits one more student with an odd ability. The plot is still developing, so suggestions and comments are nice.
1. Hibernation

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except this computer on which I write these silly fanfictions.

Author's Note: Hi. I know that for most stories that have original characters, the Author always makes a point to add 'Not a Mary-Sue fic!' if he or she is aware of what Mary-Sues are. However. I think that writing for a Mary-Sue can be painfully easy at times, and a basic habit to fall into. So, I won't add the disclaimer of 'This isn't a Sue!' because for all I know, this character is. That's up to the readers to decide. So, I'll add that this is not an _intentional_ Sue fic. I didn't wake up this morning and think, 'Golly gee, I think I'll create a perfect character for the X-Men: Evolution-verse and just fuck everything up!' Because actually, I woke up around noon, and – kidding. Okay. I don't want to blabber anymore. Sorry.

Oh, and for clarification. This is set early in the first season, a little more than a month or so after the beginning of the school year. So Rogue has been a part of the team for a short time, and the others have been together for about as long as school as been in session.

**The Base Line – Chapter 1: Hibernation**

"You know that you have our complete trust, Professor." A worried mother, her face drawn with strife lines far beyond her years, clicked her fine heels along a lonely hallway, back bent forward slightly in order to better talk with the Professor she addressed.

"I value it highly, Mrs. Hatchett." The voice was even and soothing, a stark contrast to the tittering female voice that sent choppy echoes throughout the vacant hallway. This voice kept a steady pace, as steady as the sound of wheels moving ever forward. Again, this contrasted the harried footsteps of a woman who shouldn't have been wearing nice heels that day. "Now, if you could, tell me again why you called me here." He knew the story was obvious, so he smiled gently in order to try and dissipate any hesitation she felt. "And spare no details, if you can."

Fifteen-year-old Megan Hatchett hadn't so much as sat up on her own in at least three days. Well…had it been? She wasn't sure. Time moved differently when you weren't a part of the normal, outside world. Outside, time progressed in a steady river. Depending on the day, it was either fast and furious, like a whitewater rafter's dream, or slow and plodding, like the ideal stream for playing Pooh sticks with. But fast or slow, time progressed in a rather orderly, consecutive fashion. You got out of bed, then you brushed your teeth. But when pulled away from the daily solar and lunar cycles, Megan started convincing herself that she was being fed before she woke up every morning, nonsensical as that was.

The apparatus that had been Megan's home for the past three days was rather ingenious. It was designed for dangerous mutants that had to be kept away from outside human contact, but for mutants that weren't so dangerous that they had to be put in a subconscious, drugged state, like the Juggernaut. Overall, the holding chamber was a big, round room. The walls were white, probably just the standard choice color for 'holding pens.' A large panel of windows peering into the top of the room showed the control room, where at least one technician resided at any given time, so that Megan could be constantly monitored. Megan herself was held in a cradle-like pod, her body supported by molded foam and held down by gentle, padded straps crossed over her chest, waist, and limbs. Her right arm was held with the inner elbow facing the ceiling so that an IV needle was slipped into her vein. That was how she got her nourishment, these days. It was weakening, but she got through it. And, embarrassing though it was for Megan to think about, the pod contained petite plumbing lines that connected to her urinary tubes, her only way of 'using the restroom.'

All in all, the system was nice. But boring. As mentioned before, Megan hadn't moved in at least three weeks, and peeing in a tube was really getting to her. Every once in a while, she would flex her hands or curl her toes in attempts to entertain herself, but the more hyper-sensitive technicians would notice and throw a miniature adult hissy-fit while Megan rolled her eyes.

The reason Megan couldn't move on her own was because of the specific nature of her ability. Since nobody could get close enough to her to perform proper experiments, the exact origin of these pulses was still unknown. What was certain, however, was that Megan's body emitted a series of forceful electric pulses that could interfere with a person's internal electrical pulses. In other words, if another person came too close to Megan, the pulses she gave off could potentially stop that poor person's heart. That was why she couldn't move. The room was a perfect containment for her, keeping people far enough away that by the time her pulses reached them, they had become so weak that any sort of danger was sidestepped. If she moved too much, she ran the risk of putting somebody in her 'range.' And that was bad.

A door theoretically lead from the empty corridor to the walkway that contained Megan's pod. Frowning, Professor Xavier stopped just before that door, rubbing his chin as he looked seemingly into the doorknob. Though this building tended to use handles and flat panels as 'doorknobs' for the doors, this room required a knob, to prevent any accidental entrances. Personnel wanted to be sure that if you entered that room, it was because you wanted to.

"You…you can help Megan, can't you?" Getting antsy standing in one place for too long, Mrs. Hatchett had started twisting her fingers around one another and fidgeting, biting her lip when she wasn't talking. It really was unbecoming of such an elegant woman, but who could blame her? In one day, she had learned that her daughter was a mutant at about the same time that she had to put her husband in intensive care. Luckily, he was home at the moment, alive and resting well. But the stress of knowing that her family would never be normal again was almost enough for this mother to bear.

"I will do my best, Mrs. Hatchett." Of course, the Professor had handled these sorts of situations before. Worried parents, afraid of what their children had become. It was all basic human nature, to worry and fear for those we loved.

"Please. Call me Violet. The formality of 'Mrs. Hatchett' is unnerving me." She replied without thinking, looking through the small window in the door at her daughter. Oh, could he really help her?

"Of course, Violet." Though he was not being rude by any means, Professor Xavier was pre-occupied with the task at hand. How to temporarily stall Megan's power, but at the same time, give her the opportunity to learn to control it on her own? Finally, he had come up with a rough idea. Closing his eyes, he reached out to the frightfully bored teenager in the other room.

_Megan, can you hear me?_

In her little pod, Megan gasped aloud, craning her neck in order to try and look around. Facing the ceiling as always, she found slight frustration that she couldn't see anything else but the glint of the technician windows, and of course, her own body. Man, did she need a change of clothes. After three days in the same pajamas and underwear, you started to feel gross at the best. But she was more concerned with the voice in her head than personal hygiene at the moment. "What's going on?" She asked the room around her, trying to find answers.

"_I'm sorry if I startled you. Megan, my name is Professor Charles Xavier, but you can call me 'Professor X.'"_

Professor? What kind of sick joke was this?

"_I'm a telepath. A mutant, like yourself. I understand that telepathy is very unnerving to anybody who isn't used to it. To reply to me, just form the words in your mind. I'll hear them."_

Telepath? Wasn't that moving things with your mind? No, that was pyrokinesis. Wait, pyro meant fire. No, she was thinking about telekinesis. Okay, so now that she had the vocabulary down, she had to figure out what the hell this was. "_Wait, like this?"_

"_Yes, exactly. Now, Megan, can you tell me why you're here?"_

Biting her lip, Megan closed her eyes tightly and let out a low whimper. "_I sent my dad to the hospital. But he's okay, now, and I didn't mean it, and I'm really sorry, really!"_

Smiling to himself, Xavier leaned back in his chair, getting a better picture of this new mutant. "_Don't worry. I'm not here to incriminate or scold you. I'm just here to help."_

"_Really? There's help for me?"_ After a moment of what seemed like hopeful, anticipating silence, her voice came back._ "Good, because I'm bored out of my mind here. Did you know that they're making me pee in a tube? Professor X, I'm telling you, it's insane."_

Chuckling, the Professor looked up at Violet, smiling.

Looking immediately hopeful, the woman leaned down, almost shaking with anticipation. "You can help her? You know what to do?"

Nodding, he looked to the doorknob again. "I will do all I can, Violet, but I can sense that Megan is ready to help me on the way. And that can make all the difference." After reassuring the nervous mother, he returned to his conversation with Megan. _"Yes, I've heard. Megan, I run a school for mutants, like yourself. My students live in the provided rooms, just like a regular boarding school, and attend the local public school during the day. In the evenings, they practice control over their abilities and how to better work as a team."_

"_Really? That sounds like a good deal, Professor X. Okay. So what do I have to do to get out of here?"_

That was the question of the day. Cautiously, Professor X responded. _"I'm going to use my telepathy to try and pinpoint where these pulses are coming from. We'll take it from there."_

"_Kay."_

"_Megan. Can you anticipate these pulses?"_

"_Uh…I'll get a weird feeling in my chest right before they happen. But I don't know how long before."_

This was slowly starting to make sense, at least a bit. _"Alright. Just stay calm."_

A few minutes of silence went by before Megan's voice started off in the Professor's head again. _"Professor X, my chest feels funny."_

"_Concentrate on it."_

The concentration did nothing, but the Professor got a clear read on the pulse as it flooded through her body. It started in her heart, moving outwards with the 'push' beat. The pulse ultimately traveled through her blood vessels through her body and dispelled out of the capillaries running close to her skin, flooding outward that way. Nodding in understanding, the Professor heard Megan yet again. _"I really felt that one, Professor X. Is that good?"_

"_It's a start. The pulses come from an electrical impulse sent from your brain to your heart. Your heart sends out the pulse we all feel."_

"_So how do I control them?"_

"_Don't worry, you won't have to do it alone. Another one should be coming soon. You just concentrate on trying to channel the flow of the pulse through your right arm."_

"_O…kay…" _Even in 'mind-speak' she sounded skeptical, but it wasn't her place to say whether this would work or not. So instead of throwing a hissy fit or anything about it, she just closed her eyes and waited. Though she still couldn't feel the 'brain' part of this whole thing, she could feel the odd tension in her chest again. Concentrating, she tried to will the strong pulse into her right arm. The muscles of her right side rippled slightly as the entire pulse flowed through it, more concentrated than usual. Damn. Too vague. Immediately, she felt the need to apologize. _"Sorry. Should I try it again?"_

"_That won't be necessary, Megan. I was able to put up the mild mental blocks needed to temper the strength of the pulse your brain sends to your heart. However, they won't last for very long, especially if I don't constantly tend to them. So you'll have to be diligent in learning how to control your talent. Can you do that?"_ Of course, the blocks were more durable than he made them out to be. He used them on Jean when she was having problems with her abilities, and she was a very strong psychic indeed. But if he gave the teenager a deadline, a sense that things had to be taken care of soon, then maybe she'd be more ready to study and learn out guilt for possibly inconveniencing the Professor. Though it could be seen as a bit manipulative, it would only benefit Megan in the long run.

"_Of course, Professor X. So, can I get out of here now?"_

Chuckling, the Professor shook his head slowly. This would be an interesting venture.


	2. After School Special

Disclaimer: One day, I'm going to stand on the top of the Empire State Building with a printed copy of this fanfiction and just throw it down to the streets below, and everybody will be like, "Holy crap, none of this is copyrighted to her!"

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! Woot!

The Base Line – Chapter 2: After School Special 

"Kurt, like, cut it out!" Kitty whined, rubbing her left shoulder gingerly. For some reason, sitting still in the car was a skill that continued to elude Kurt even after a month and a half of practice. "You're going to totally make Scott crash."

"Thanks, Kitty…" Scott murmured from behind the wheel of his baby, reaching up with his right hand to adjust the quartz glasses that he always wore.

Rolling his eyes, Kurt leaned back against the seat, crossing his arms and pouting slightly. "Oh, come on, Kitty. A little goofing around never hurt anybody. Besides, it's Friday, and the Professor is gone." The last few words held a squealing glee usually reserved for giddy schoolgirls. Though apparently, Kurt had dipped into the glee-bank stores for just this occasion.

Turning around from her perpetually reserved shotgun seat, Jean gave Kurt a stern glance reminiscent of a frustrated mother trying to rein control over her son's wily best friend. "Not for long, Kurt. He's just investigating the new mutant signature he found with Cerebro."

Arching a brow, Rogue looked up from her corner seat, side hard-pressed against the car in an attempt to squirm away from her squealing roommate. The Institute's resident Goth half-wished that he had taken Jean along with him on that venture, since she was rather craving a Jean-free afternoon.

"Like, why would he do that?" Kitty asked flippantly, waving one of her hands while rolling her eyes. "I mean, I know the Professor is all about mutant unity, but, it's totally impossible to get any privacy now. Does he really think he can cram the mansion full of mutants? I'll, like, totally go crazy." As if hearing an answer that offended her, she offered a childish pout before falling back against her seat, looking mournfully down at her sandals.

Sighing patiently, Jean glanced from Kurt to Kitty, trying to gently talk sense into the frustrated brunette. "Kitty, what would you have done if the Professor had thought the same thing when you were having your problems?" Ever the diplomat, she continued. "Maybe this new mutant needs our help just as much as you did."

Sniffing haughtily, Kitty looked up at Jean, trying to reply with some semblance of territorial cattiness, but found that it was rather impossible to do so. Instead, she nodded meekly, uncrossing her arms and sitting more normally, refraining from a verbal response.

Once that was settled, Jean turned back to sit in her seat the way the cops would want to see her sitting, looking straight ahead with a vague tiredness in her face. Scott considered saying something to her (she could tell, since she had 'accidentally' skimmed over the surface of his mind) but decided against it, appreciative of the silence that had fallen over the car full of teenagers.

The rest of the ride was deceptively smooth, with only a small crack from Kurt that was quickly silenced by an annoyed elbow in his side from Kitty. For a short while, Scott had worried that the three mutants in the back seat had died mysteriously. Well, at least Kurt and Kitty. Rogue rarely made much noise unless goaded by one of the two. It was both comforting an unnerving at the same time, as he still retained a bit of guilt over what had happened with the poor southern girl during the first month of school.

Before too long, the red sports car pulled into the mansion's long driveway, zipping into one of the outside parking spots with a cheery air. The passengers were getting ready to stand up even before Scott had turned off the engine, and by the time he closed his door, the back seat was completely empty.

Once standing outside, Kurt hopped up and down, pumping a fist in the air. "Come on, guys! Logan and Storm probably went with the Professor, right?"

"Not a chance, bub." The husky voice caused the general morale of the five-person group to drop significantly. Not that the teenagers didn't respect the resident Teacher of Hard Knocks, but he really could get overbearing and frustrating after a while, and a Friday afternoon was not the best time to run into him. "Where's porcupine?" Logan, or Wolverine as he was often called, trotted down the front steps of the mansion with his hands thrust into his jeans' pockets, chin tucked in just slightly so that the brim of his hat could block out the glaring sun above.

Since Kurt was the one who generally knew Storm's wayward nephew best, (besides Storm herself, of course) the others expected him to answer Logan's potentially loaded question. "He told us not to wait up for him after school. I assume he's skateboarding home?"

With a low grunt, Logan looked down to his side, his hat casting a dark shadow over his profile. Instead of speaking to the X-Men, he spoke instead to the grass, mulling over torture plans for Evan. "He'll be able to catch an extra training session with the new kid Chuck's bringing in…" He murmured, setting up the course in his head. After a moment of stagnant silence, he looked over to the X-Men, who were looking rather terrified at the moment. Letting out a low 'tch,' Logan reached up to lift the brim of his overbearing cowboy hat to get a better look at the kids. "Chuck left me in charge of you guys until he returns. So." He smirked, the feral smile reaching up to wrinkle his nose. "Let's move. I have a full schedule that I want to complete by the time he returns with your new friend." Of course, Logan probably just wanted to torture this new person as well.

Feeling a strange pang of compassion for this poor new person, whoever it was, Kitty sighed in defeat and looked up at Jean before dropping her backpack from her shoulders, leaving it on the asphalt. As always, Storm would come by later and clean up for them. It was one of those unspoken jobs that she had managed to get saddled with. Go figure.

Without another word, Logan turned his back on the teenagers and strode off around the back of the mansion, knowing that they would follow with no more verbal complaints. That's what he loved most about his power. They could whine all they wanted, but they would never really try and confront him about it. Not that Logan was a sadistic, power-hungry Napoleon or anything. No, never.


End file.
